The Importance of Breeding
by jessiy
Summary: Voldemort is in desperate need for more Death Eater initiates as the war drags on. He commissions a spell that will find each wizard's magical mate designed to create a new strain of super warriors.


**A/N: So, this is something that I have been working on for the last few months in between writing my WIP's. It was a whole lot of fun to write and my first oneshot of this magnitude.**

 **The Importance of Breeding**

Once Harry's body disappeared from Hagrid's arms, the chaos of fatal dueling filled the air. The snake was dead! Neville had beheaded the revolting thing with the sword of Gryffindor and Hermione couldn't have been more relieved if she tried. She could have wept in happiness with how close they were to the end. Not only that but Harry was really alive!

Hermione turned back to the fight around her, shooting off curses left and right, helping seasoned and green fighters alike. As she spotted Ginny and Luna being targeted by Bellatrix, she sped up, only disarming the opponents in her way, letting the more experienced fighters take care of their opponent's new vulnerability. She sent the spell indiscriminately and wands rolled to her feet or flew to her through the air. It made her smile. One even flew into her hand and it felt warm and comforting as if it had known her touch before but she dropped it to the floor at her feet.

Hermione was running on adrenaline, her hair whipping crazily around her as Luna, Ginny, and Hermione stepped in to duel with Bellatrix Lestrange. With an especially strong curse from the manic witch, the three girls were thrown back and Molly Weasley charged forward like a crazed bull.

"Not my daughter, you bitch!" She snarled and Hermione could only admire the fire in Molly as the two women dueled. Molly Weasley was a woman of skill and power and this was proof. Bellatrix taunted her and played with her as she did with all of the people who dared come against her. It was mid-laugh that Bellatrix fell, a killing curse straight to her chest. Molly was triumphant and the roar of Voldemort echoed around the ruined hall as he saw his best and most devout follower fall. He threw back those that were fighting against him as if they were rag dolls and Harry Potter stepped into the fight.

"He's mine! It's got to be like this. It's got to be me." Harry said. Hermione picked herself off the floor and watched as Harry squared off against Voldemort, taunting him with information that changed the tides of war.

Snape was always Dumbledore's man- had loved Lily more than life- and gave everything to help Harry win. It was down to one spell, one fluke. Would the elder wand know of its true master?

As Harry yelled 'Expelliarmus', Voldemort yelled 'Avada Kedavra'. The spells were cast and Hermione couldn't bear the thought of losing Harry again just when she had him back. Casting a silent confundus, Hermione watched as her spell hit Harry who stumbled two steps to the left and Voldemort's spell landed in the crowd. Minerva McGonagall was hit with the killing curse. The side of the light watched in horror as she crumpled to the ground, dead. The elder wand went flying high, back to its master, and Harry reached up to pluck it from the air. Soaring high over his head, the death stick landed in Hermione's open palm, the wand shooting glowing sparks into the air after successfully reuniting with its master. The entire battlefield was silent.

Voldemort's red eyes gleamed as he considered her, a new powerful adversary. Before she was just the intelligent Mudblood that kept Potter alive. Now she was infinitely more interesting. He tore his gaze off of her frozen face and grabbed the nearest living Death Eater and disapparated away, the rest of his minions quickly following suit if they were able.

"How?" Hermione mumbled in horror, Harrys face an identical mask from where he still stood in the now empty circle of spectators.

"It was you? I hoped I was just being clumsy with it." Harry looked at Draco's wand as if it had betrayed him as if he should have known that Hermione had disarmed him in her bid to reach Bellatrix to help her friends stay alive.

Hermione blanched, she had been firing off Expelliarmuses like they were cheap tricks, disarming many people, only minutes ago, during the heat of the resumed battle.

"Harry," She choked. He moved toward her through the crowd and encased her in his shaking arms.

"He knows too. There is no hiding it."

"What should I do?"

"I don't know but we will figure it out, just like we always do." He murmured into her hair as she felt Ron come up behind her and encircle her in his arms as well.

The side of the light had begun moving around- taking prisoners, separating the dead from those who needed medical attention, and pulling everyone out and away from destroyed castle. No one was safe there and it was not a school anymore. Hogwarts was just another casualty of war.

The boys pulled away from Hermione. Ron ambled back to his family who were clustered around the dead body of Fred and Harry went off to talk to Kingsley about their next move. They almost ended this whole war. Had Hermione not disarmed Harry moments before he stepped into the ring with Voldemort, the war would be over, and Voldemort would be dead. The bitterness nearly suffocated her. It was all her fault that Voldemort was still living.

People milled around her in a mild state of panic, apparating away to a safe location that Kingsley set up just in case. A soft but firm hand slipped into hers. Hermione gave Luna a tight smile that was more a grimace than pleasure. With a nod, Hermione allowed Luna to apparate her away to the new safe house, a newly warded and deconsecrated church somewhere in the middle of nowhere. A place that used to be a town but no longer was for whatever reason.

Hermione let go of Luna's hand and walked unseeingly through her new safe haven. Not a word left her lips as she descended into the pits of madness where she relived the moment the Elder wand landed in her hands and she realized that she was the reason that the war was not over. Every single death from here on out was her fault, all her fault. It was on a continuous loop in her brain.

**HGHG**

Draco flinched as Voldemort smacked the table at Malfoy Manor with his hand. His mother was on the floor, dying from the wounds inflicted on her in between bouts of the Cruciatus. Her life's blood was seeping into the priceless rug that was soaking up the growing pool. His father and he stared at her, wands of their brethren at their throats. Voldemort's order had been clear. One movement, one twitch in her direction and they would meet the same fate. Perhaps his father would have followed her to the floor but with Draco's life in the balance and the possible extinction of the Malfoy name, he dared not. It was his deep-rooted belief that blood mattered that held him immobile.

Draco had once been of that belief too, perhaps he still was, but now his motivations were more selfish. He just wanted this to be over. He never wanted anything so bad as when he was standing in Hogwarts hoping that Harry Potter would come through and defeat the bastard. He kept all of this to himself and lowered his head in further supplication. There was no way out for him now. He had become a Death Eater whether he had wanted it or not and that meant no desertions, no freedom, no status. The Malfoys were lower than low. The biggest disappointments that nearly cost Voldemort the entire war.

Narcissa began choking on the blood that was flooding her lungs and a tear slipped down Draco's cheek. His mother had loved him, tried to protect him as best as she could, and he didn't want her to die. The way the blood bubbled from her lips as she exhaled for the final time would forever haunt him, waking or asleep. He was going to go to hell or whatever awaited people like him in the afterlife.

Voldemort turned on them with a savage glee, stalking toward their frozen forms. They still watched her, silently begged her to be stronger, to take another breath. She didn't and Draco looked up into the red slitted eyes of his master.

"Do you see what I must do to those who betray me?" He hissed softly, moving closer to Draco. Draco nodded. He dared do nothing else. "To make sure this resistance is stamped out of the once noble and proud Malfoy line, I will be instructing you myself. Lucius will await his punishment in the dungeons."

Death Eaters that had been holding his father, moved him out of the dining room and presumably into the dungeons.

"I lost my best and most fierce warrior today. Your Aunt Bellatrix was a credit to you. I am sorry for her loss." Although Voldemort whispered his condolences, it was clear he didn't actually care. Her death was a blow because she was the most loyal and crazed of his followers. Draco held back a shudder. "You can thank her memory for my leniency."

"Thank you, My Lord." Draco murmured docility. He stared at his mother's body, still on the floor and felt sick and trapped.

"I will see you for breakfast tomorrow." Voldemort dismissed him, waving a few of his other followers to dispose of his mother's body. It was too much to hope for that Voldemort would let him bury her in the family plot. "Oh, and Draco, If I catch you anywhere near the dungeons, your father will bear the brunt of my displeasure." Draco bowed deeply, staring at his shoes until he could no longer hear Voldemort's footsteps and vomited on the same rug that drank his mother's blood.

Draco wiped his mouth and turned on his heel, retreating to the sanctuary of his room. He couldn't look back and see her dead anymore. He was at his breaking point.

The next morning Draco sat stiffly to Voldemort's right. He picked at his food, refusing to meet anyone's eyes as he tried to become invisible. For the most part, they let him. Only sending him sidelong glances once in a while. Probably wondering what he had earned to be seated as Voldemort's right-hand man. They could take it. He didn't want it.

"Dolohov," Voldemort began. "I need you to create a spell for me. See me after breakfast."

"Yes, My Lord." He muttered deferentially.

**HGHG**

Hermione was dead inside. That is, she was consumed with the guilt of dooming the entire world to Voldemort's dominion. It had been six months since the battle at Hogwarts. The resistance kept fighting, kept moving forward making themselves stronger- taking out Voldemort's soldiers. Harry now led raids and Ron led other fighters. Kingsley had begged her in the days following May second to also take a wing of fighters. She couldn't do it. She couldn't be responsible for even more deaths.

She retreated inside herself and books, refusing to talk to anyone- even Harry and Ron. They assured her over and over that it wasn't her fault, that it was a cruel twist of fate, but she wouldn't be consoled. It was her fault. It was.

Every mission they came back with less and less of the living and more and more of the dead. She spent time with them, the dead. She bathed them- prepared them for burial. It may have been morbid but it was the least she could do. The dead were seared into her brain. She would never forget. The peaceful still faces of the people she came to care about. Ginny, Hagrid, Katie Bell, Amos Diggory, and so many more.

She was there now, with the dead, painstakingly brushing out Fleur's silvery blond hair away from her face. She was lovely even in death. Kingsley walked in at some point and she looked away from the soft hair to the horrified gaze of the leader of the Order. He tore his eyes away from her gentle hands and leaned against a metal table. He grasped the edge so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"Hermione," He began but stopped, clearing his throat. "We need you. I know you are not well but we are down to our last twenty fighters. As effective as we have been in decimating their ranks, ours also is dwindling. There are seven women left. Seven!"

Hermione shook her head. She was not going out in the field but with his rant about the women, she wondered if that was really what he was trying to request from her.

"Civilians are being imprisoned or killed or drafted by him and those that escape him are given options from us. Most people want to be sent to the states where the war has not touched at all. Few choose to stay and take up arms with us. We are dying."

Hermione inclined her head with a frown. She already knew this. Just because she didn't talk anymore didn't mean she was stupid or couldn't hear what was going on. Kingsley cleared his throat, a dark red blush spread over his dark skin.

"We need children. We need to _have_ children. Not you and me but we as the resistance," He fumbled "But if you want it to be me I wouldn't say no. You have a choice of anyone you want. No one would say no to you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes in fury and opened her mouth for the first time in six months intending on delivering a swift and cutting negative. She stopped. She was the reason there were so many fatalities, the least she could do is create more, right? No! Children were not supposed to grow up to become tools. She would be creating people to die in the war. She shook her head, her stomach in her throat and went back to brushing Fleur's hair. She couldn't do it. Kingsley nodded slowly, accepting her denial and left. The moment he cleared the doorway, she began to cry. Heavy soul-wracking sobs that made her throat bleed. Her vocal cords, not used to the strain, soon began to chafe against the screaming.

She wasn't sure how long it was before Harry found her hoarsely screaming her apologies to Fleur's pregnant dead body. She wasn't supposed to die, wasn't even actively fighting. Fleur was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was senseless.

Harry wrapped his arms around her shaking body and smiled. The smile didn't reach his eyes. He was relieved that she finally let out everything that she had been bottling up for far too long. Pushing her soggy curls out of her face, he kept up a sting of comforting murmurs.

"We will be okay. We will win. This is important enough to die for. Everyone here is willingly and knowingly putting themselves in harm's way. Yes, we are suffering devastating losses but Hermione, so are they! I think we will have another chance to win and soon."

"Then why does Kingsley want the women to have babies? He doesn't think this will end anytime soon." She wailed into his shirt.

"He isn't wrong. We do need to have children. The wizarding world is already sparsely populated but now," He said as he ran his fingers lightly over her curls. "but now it is much worse and we suspect that Tom is also working on solving this problem."

"There are other countries, other magical communities. Magic will not die out."

"I know but they are also experiencing low birth rates. Everyone is afraid Tom will come for their country next."

"Harry,"

"Hermione," He cut her off and tightened his grip unconsciously in her hair, her face still buried in his neck. "I want you to have my children."

"Not you too!" She moaned. Fear swirled in her stomach.

"After Ginny died, I was a wreck. I told myself that if I couldn't have her then I didn't want anyone. The real issue I began to have was missing you. You were here and yet not. I need you. You are my best friend, the one who has always followed me in my insane yearly tribulations. There is no other woman powerful enough to not only protect herself but her children as well, even if they were mine."

"I can't," Her voice cracked. She was hoarse and sobbing only hurt her disused vocal cords more.

"Think about it, Hermione. Give it some thought, some time. In a month, come find me and give me your answer but please, no more of this self-flagellation. I can't bear to see you killing yourself over what happened with the elder wand. It was not your fault. These deaths are not on you. Tom killed them."

Hermione didn't agree with him but she decided that she was making things worse by not being present, by pretending that she had died that day. She deserved to suffer for that mistake but Harry- wonderful, amazing, strong Harry- didn't deserve her silence.

**HGHG**

Draco's stomach was in his throat as he walked through the halls of his ancestral home. He could feel his mark burn on his forearm, a summons. Usually, when Voldemort required his presence, he would send one of his lackeys to find Draco but for whatever reason, today he used the mark.

He nodded stiffly to the two Death Eaters standing guard outside of the dining room, flanking the doors like some mobster security. Draco nearly snorted. Anyone who got that close to Voldemort was an idiot that just put a timer on his life. No one entered his presence unless they were bid.

The doors were opened for him and he blinked twice, the only outward sign of his shock. At the table sat many of his pureblooded friends from Hogwarts. Only those from his generation had been invited so it seemed. Seven of them to be exact, including himself.

"Come in, Draco," Voldemort hissed from his seat at the head of the table. The seat to his right was empty, as usual. Ever since his father was sent to the dungeons, Voldemort kept him close. Too close.

Once he was seated, Voldemort launched into the heart of the matter.

"Some time ago, I had Dolohov create something special for us. It is a magical parchment that when you write your name on it with a blood quill, it will tell you your magical mate if you have one. The purpose it to breed a superior magical generation. Only the strongest will be paired. This will not work for everyone. Some mates are deceased, some have not been born, some are not powerful enough. If you are one of the special few that are gifted a match, it will be to the glory of our movement for you to provide your master with your heirs."

The tension in the room skyrocketed as the sharp Slytherin lads decoded what they were being told. They were to be studs for the cause, pairing with whoever the parchment said. All of them were well versed in holding their emotions in check but many trembled anyway. Draco swallowed hard, avoiding the eyes of his mates from school. He doubted that whatever or whoever showed up on his parchment would save him and his family. The Dark Lord had brought him in close, teaching him, forcing him to perform unthinkable things against his brethren and civilians. He wouldn't be as lucky as the others in the room, he wouldn't be cloistered with a woman to impregnate her away from the fighting.

"Young Mr. Nott, all you need to do is write your name. It is that simple." Voldemort hissed and gestured that he should be first. Draco watched as Theo pushed back his chair and stood, moving around the large table so that he was right next to their Lord. The parchment had a single blood quill laying over top.

Theo leaned over and picked up the quill, his hand slightly shaking. He gasped as the back of his hand opened with each letter. The rusty red of his blood, shining in the light of the windows. After he finished, he stood straight waiting with a grim acceptance.

The blood was sucked in and after only a second, it reformed the blood to spell another name.

 _Daphne Greengrass_

Theo looked partially sick, and partially relieved. At least he knew her and she was already a candidate for the Nott heir. Theo nodded and sat back down. Voldemort smiled and it was terrifying.

Draco watched as his friends took their turns one at a time. None had received a mate until there were only two left. Blaise Zabini and himself. Blaise walked up the most stoic of them all and carefully wrote his name and stood back to watch. Instead of the parchment using his blood, the name stood out in sludgy black.

 _Ginevra Weasley_

"What does this mean?" He asked quietly.

"Your mate is deceased. You may sit."

Draco stood without being bid. He half hoped the parchment would stay blank but the other half, the one buried deep inside yearned to see that someone was meant for him. He beseeched any higher being listening that if he did have a mate that she would be powerful enough to protect herself.

Picking up the quill, he steeled himself for the sting of his flesh being opened and didn't even flinch as he began writing his name. He refused to look at his hand as it opened with each stroke and stood as soon as he was finished, dropping the damned quill back on the table.

Within moments, his blood reformed and a name stared at him in mockery. His lip curled. Internally he was panicking, externally he was disgusted. The letters shined brightly as Voldemort laughed. A low menacing sound that filled the room.

"Well done, son," The Dark Lord hissed obviously pleased.

Draco was horrified. His master was pleased with his mate and it would figure that the gods would deliver his request in this way. He got what he asked for, a powerful mate. Powerful enough to protect herself and anyone else she chose. Powerful enough to defy his Lord and master. Powerful enough to continuously go up against her enemies. Powerful enough to wield the Elder Wand.

 _Hermione Granger_

He silently choked on his rage. The Mudblooded best friend of Potter was his mate. The bushy-headed, bucktoothed, know-it-all that he spent years tormenting. She was beneath him, all of them. Laughter bubbled up in his throat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Theo and Blaise looked at him with sympathy while the others shrank back in their chairs. He knew he sounded mad but he couldn't stop. Are the shades of Malfoy Manor to be thus polluted? His mother would roll in her shallow and unmarked grave. Never, he decided, would he ever allow _her_ the honor of bearing his children.

**HGHG**

Hermione walked into the small room that held more beds than it should rightly be able to fit. Harry was alone as she knew he would be. He was laying on his cot with one of his arms thrown over his eyes.

"Hey," Hermione said tentatively. Talking again was something that was unexpectedly difficult to get used to again after so long internalizing her grief and self-flagellation.

Harry moved his arm and rolled his head to face her as she sat on the cot next to his.

"Hey back," He smiled at her. He looked rough as if he had spent the last six months not sleeping at all. Hermione took a deep fortifying breath.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Yes?" He asked obviously confused.

"Yes, I will marry you and have your children." She said. Harry looked shocked, apparently not expecting her answer so soon.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to jump into this. Take the month, Hermione. It's only been a few days."

"Harry," She held out her hand and gently moved his messy black hair out of his eyes. "I'm sure."

He nodded and closed his eyes. A moment of silence enveloped the room before he jackknifed off the bed and seized her head in his hands and crashing his lips to hers. Blood rushed to her head and heated. His lips were not gentle. They were savage and fearful but not punishing. She felt his fingers find her waist and pull her into his body that had toned well in the six months of guerrilla warfare.

He smelled good and for the first time in forever, she felt her body responding to stimuli. No longer was she in a numbed haze. Her breathing sped up as his tongue prodded her lips to open, and swept his tongue in her mouth the moment she capitulated. This felt nice. She could feel desire for him begin to pool in her abdomen. It was nice but she couldn't help but feel as if there could be more, should be more, between two people who were getting married. She buried that thought as soon as possible. Harry deserved every part of her if they were going to be married and she would not do him the dishonor of pining for someone else, even if she didn't know who it was that she yearned for.

Harry pulled back and cupped her face in his rough hands. The pads of his thumb traced her cheekbones.

"Thank you," He whispered. "I can't trust anyone else to be the mother of my children. Thank you, Hermione, for giving me something so precious. I promise you that I will do my damnedest to be the best husband and father that you could dream of."

"I know. I trust you." She whispered back.

**HGHG**

Draco stared at the wall of his bedroom. He hadn't left the space for two days ever since Granger's name showed up on his parchment. Voldemort had made sure he was eating and healthy. Merlin forbid his prized stallion was out of commission for when the Gryffindor Princess was captured.

The Dark Lord had visions of super soldiers with curly blond hair, children that would grow into the elite warrior class that would finally win the war. Ranks of male children sired by Draco's loins. He felt the shackles as if they were a tangible weight around his wrists and ankles. For the rest of his life, he would be forced to either carry out the evil deeds of his Master or rutting in between Granger's toned thighs. Toned? He thought to himself sickeningly. When had he noticed her enough to imagine her creamy thighs spread beneath him?

He groaned as he grew hard. The thought of her naked and waiting for him drove him wild. He hated himself. He loathed her. Didn't he? Of course, he did! So why was he getting stiff imagining her wet… No! Any man would get hard imagining a woman naked in his bed. Draco was still seventeen and his hormones were out of control. It didn't help that he had the added confirmation that she was _his._ Possessiveness warred with his racism.

For a few years now, he had begun to question the validity of blood purity. Hermione broke every stereotype drilled into him. She was intelligent, powerful, beautiful. Wait…beautiful? When had he started thinking of her as beautiful?

He grit his teeth and remembered the day she shattered his pride. Third year. She slugged him like a common Muggle. That time in fourth year that she laughed when he was turned into a ferret and bounced around the stone, cracking three ribs in the process. The numerous times she looked at him as if he were the dirt under her shoes. Her narrowed eyes that was the prequel to whatever nasty hex she had recently learned from the huge tomes in the library. The way her hair sparked when she was agitated. The way her lips bowed when she smiled. The way she smelled like summer thunderstorms; petrichor and ozone. It was always so distracting. He wondered how she would taste.

His eyes bulged as he realized the direction of his thoughts and curled his lips in a silent snarl. He didn't care how she tasted. He didn't care how it would feel to have her passion directed at him. He certainly didn't wonder what it would be like to try and tame such a woman. Not that he wanted her tame. Breaking her would be the biggest travesty the world had ever seen. Her spirit and passion is what called to him.

Wait! He shook his head roughly and stomped into the bathroom. Turning the shower on freezing cold, he stepped in, clothes and all. Once he was soaked he leaned against the marble wall and began hitting his head against it. He didn't want her. And maybe by hitting his head continuously against the wall, he would believe it.

**HGHG**

Telling Ron about their wedding was a lot harder than Hermione ever anticipated. Ron stood in front of them with no emotion on his face. His congratulations and smile were both shaky and he wouldn't meet her eyes. Something inside her shriveled at his attempt to hide his pain. They weren't any romantic to each other but she knew that he had wanted there to be. It is what caused him to take off while they were in the tent on the search for Horcruxes. They had kissed at the Battle of Hogwarts and they had danced around each other for so long that it was expected of them to get together. After the Battle, Hermione couldn't. She wasn't ready and then she remembered that horrifying day Ginny was brought to her in the makeshift mortuary. Whatever there could have been between them died that day. Hermione couldn't stomach the guilt of being the cause of all the deaths in his once prolific family.

That is one of the reasons she chose Harry. He would understand the guilt. People had died for him over the course of both wars. Never once did he look at her with dead or accusing eyes. Molly had. Many times. Hermione wasn't the only one who thought she was responsible. Molly unequivocally did too. The reasons may have been different but the feelings were the same. No one blamed her for being the master of the wand instead of Harry but they did blame her for refusing to fight afterward. She was the master of the deadliest wand in existence and she refused to fight.

Harry kissed her temple and left, leaving Ron and Hermione alone.

"Why him?" He whispered brokenly.

"Ron, don't do this,"

Ron nodded, his teeth clenched with jealousy and anger.

"Whatever you want," He said before leaving and taking the first opportunity to join a fighting wing and leave the base. Hermione was alone, surrounded by the resistance. Harry was talking logistics with Kingsley this afternoon and she knew that if she did have his children, he wouldn't live long enough to be any kind of father to them. She wanted to scream. Maybe this was a mistake.

**HGHG**

Draco was sweating. It was summer, just a month after the year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and his mother's death. Even in the dead of night in which he and his brethren moved, he wore the confining and heavy cloak and mask that marked him as inner circle, Voldemort's personal task force. They had been tipped off that the entire golden trio would be coming out of hiding together tonight for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Anxiety churned in his gut. He only had one job tonight, one job that was placed on him personally by Voldemort himself. Capture the Mudblood. He dared not fail and he dared not snatch the best chance they had of getting rid of his master. He was in an impossible situation.

Yaxley nodded in his direction and he looked to his left where his childhood friend, Theo Nott stood and gave another nod. Everyone was in place. Now all they had to do was wait.

Draco's mouth went dry as Order members began moving into the clearing. No sign of the golden trio yet but as he looked at those that were there, he knew that this information was good. There were too many Order members for this to be anything other than a wedding.

He felt like heaving his dinner into the bushes. They didn't know who was getting married but it didn't matter. He had to capture her or die trying. He couldn't help the niggling of desire to hope for the latter.

The Order members quickly erected decorations, white and gold-wreathed the small meadow and white chairs were summoned and transfigured into being. The Death Eaters that ringed the meadow sat still, waiting for Draco's signal. He wiped his brow with his sleeve, slowly so as not to attract attention.

The Order members found their seats and soon quieted as Weasley and Potter apparated into the clearing. They weren't wearing dress robes, in fact, not one person was dressed for a celebration. Some were bruised and mending, their clothes battered. Some wore muggle clothes of various kinds. He snorted. Some wedding.

Weasley sat down in the front row and the leader of the Order stood facing the small crowd with Potter standing uncomfortably in front. Draco's eyebrows rose to his hair. It was Potters wedding? A sinking feeling invaded his stomach. He knew who he must be marrying. The one woman who should have been his. The woman that _was_ his. He closed his eyes for a moment. It took him months to come to this acceptance, to willingly capitulate to the spell that was cast on him and all the males in his generation. Out of all the women in the world, his mate was her, Hermione.

Gritting his teeth, he knew that he couldn't really have her, that if he captured her, her life would be living hell. He didn't want to put her in his master's path even more than she already was. She was his to protect, even if she had no clue what she was to him. It didn't make the feeling of being stabbed go away; if only they had grown up without the Dark Lord and the blood purity racism. If Voldemort had never risen, had his father not cared about lineage, had the world been normal so that they could have grown up in an environment where he could court her, he knew that he would have moved heaven and earth for a chance to win her favor. He shut down those thoughts. There was no use playing what if.

His eyes snapped up to the meadow when she apparated into the clearing alone. She was the only one dressed as if it was a wedding. Wearing a white dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, she alone looked untouched and innocent of all the war that surrounded them. Something within Draco burned as his eyes drank her in. Her large honey eyes were emphasized with kohl, light gold and brown dusted her lids. Her lips were a berry pink. Draco couldn't move. She was breathtaking. She was powerful. She would never be his.

He drew in a shuttered breath and tried unsuccessfully to ignore the churning in his gut as she walked with shining, happy eyes up to Potter. His lip curled. She was supposed to be his, not Potters. Closing his eyes for one more moment, he forced all of his feelings behind his occlumency shields and sent the first signal just as Hermione's hands were engulfed in Potters.

Chaos erupted as Order members struggled to disarm the Death Eaters that emerged from the darkness surrounding them. Draco knew he had to make a choice, and there was very little time. Had Hermione not been the bride of the day, Draco would like to think he would have given up his life for her freedom without her ever knowing but the moment he realized that she was the bride, jealous anger flooded him. He knew he shouldn't capture her but she left him little choice.

He apparated into the clearing right behind her and while Kingsley, Potter, and Granger were busy fighting off his men, Draco wrapped his arm around her waist.

Draco landed with a lap full of angry witch on his bed and struggled to capture her flailing fists that were unquestionably aiming for his face. The adrenaline of the moment, the knowledge of who wriggled in his lap all contributed to the state of excitement that he was in. She froze as she felt him grow hard against her bum allowing him to finally capture her wrists.

He transferred both of her tiny wrists into one of his and divested himself of his mask. Her eyes grew wide as she saw who had her.

"Hello Granger," He said with his signature smirk. It was strained and lacked the bite he had used against her for years. He was dying slowly. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than for her to slide her hands up his chest and around his neck, pressing her breasts into his chest and her lips against his. He yearned for her touch and her smiles. To receive loathing instead cut him to the core. He tried to tell himself that for her, nothing has changed. He was the bad boy, the Death Eater, her childhood nemesis. For him, she was everything that he had ever wanted, everything good and pure and loving in the world.

"Malfoy," She spat. She leaned away from him, pulling at the hand that held both her wrists captive. "where are we?"

He couldn't help it, he flinched and sighed, regretting their animosity bitterly. His lips twisted into self-mockery. The great Draco Malfoy was a mess because the woman he wanted nearly married another and all she could do was look at him with disgust. It would have been easier if his mate had been anyone else. But he couldn't deny her beauty, her fierce and protective spirit. He was a big enough man to admit to himself that she was exactly what he wanted in a woman. All that fire directed at him, it was a favorite fantasy of his ever since her name showed up while using Dolohov's spell.

"We are at the Manor, this is my room," Draco said, avoiding her gaze, unable to look at her look at her. He should have been the man she deserved and died in that clearing.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and said, "Why did you bring me here? I would rather die than get thrown in your dungeons."

"You are not going to the dungeons, Granger." He was utterly baffled. Why would he bring her into his private chambers only to take her to the dungeons? She had to know what it meant to be here, in this suite with him in his ancestral home. There was always only one mistress of the manor, one woman allowed in the master's chambers. Did she really not understand what he did to her by bringing her here? Sure, it protected her from everyone, including his Lord. None but the Malfoy, his lady, and their offspring could pass the wards on these chambers. But by protecting her so completely, he sealed her fate. Hermione was brilliant, how could she not know?

"Then why did you bring me here."

"I want to marry you." He flung his free hand wide, indicating the room. "You are in Malfoy Manor, the master chamber." There, he thought, she had to know now that he spelled it out to her. But she only looked back at him in confusion before laughing semi-hysterically, tears of mirth streaming down her face.

"I'm to die in an extremely painful way, aren't I? I am the owner of the Elder wand, of course, he wants to kill me."

"He isn't going to kill you," He said fiercely. Any man or beast that tried to separate them now would have to go through him first. Malfoy's protected their own.

"Why not? He killed Snape for the wand."

For a moment, he went absolutely still. Steeling himself, he decided to go completely against his own character so that she would be completely aware of what was going on. Perhaps it would save her life if something happened to him. If the Dark Lord decided to kill him, she had to be prepared. He was going to tell her the truth.

"You are meant for me. There is this spell that tells you who your soul mate is and you're mine, Granger. He needs our generation to have children and he can't afford to kill off powerful witches who were matched. Even if they are Muggleborns or owners of the most powerful wand in existence." He paused, uncertain. Hermione grew stiff on his lap still disregarding his body's reaction to having her in his lap. He couldn't will away his erection if he tried, and he did. All of the most disturbing moments in his life, the thought of naked old lady flesh, and Quidditch did nothing to help his situation.

"You are just going to muddy your precious pureblood line because a spell matched me with you? What does your father think about that?" She sneered, throwing back his signature look at him.

Draco tensed and set his jaw, the muscle ticking. He didn't want to talk about his father. "Our children will be unequaled magically. That is what he would focus on." In all honesty, at this point, Lucius would just fear that the line would die out without her. If there was one thing that his father would never change his views about was that the line must be carried on. No matter what.

"So, you and I are to pop out as many offspring as I physically can so that they can fight in the war when they become old enough? Children that would be sent to kill my loved ones? He is mad!"

"Neither of us has a choice in this." He could feel his fear bleed onto his face. His choice had been made for him when he realized who was supposed to marry Potter. He damned them both.

He looked down at her small wrists in his hand and began to run his thumb over her soft skin. Touching her, soothing her and himself fed the beast within him that raged against his tight control. The beast wanted her on his bed, naked except for his body that he would cover her with. He held himself in check. That would not happen anytime soon, if ever. He wondered idly as his thumb skimmed her flesh if she would ever forgive him and feel for him the same way he did for her.

"There is always a choice," she whispered fiercely. She believed in this, he could tell but the Dark Lord was not holding the very last of her family, torturing them with Merlin knew what. His father may be a prejudiced man who had no compunction in skirting the law and casting unforgivables but he was a good father. Draco had years of amazing memories with him and he loved him still. He felt like he was going to be sick.

"My father is in the dungeons. Every time I don't please the Dark Lord…" He trailed off. He was no longer stiff against her backside. Was he any better than his father? He stole Potter's bride and she had no idea that the moment she was within the walls of this room, she was his. It was irreversible except by death. In a flash, he pushed her from his lap and raced for the bathroom, vomiting violently into the porcelain toilet.

Hermione was on her feet looking decidedly uncomfortable. But he couldn't do anything but empty the contents of his stomach into the bowl he kneeled before. He wanted to reassure her, to take away her anger and hatred. After his stomach finally settled down, the toilet flushed automatically and he stood. He rinsed out his mouth and splashed water on his face and leaned over the sink, his head down in a defeated posture.

"I couldn't watch you marry him," He said quietly, so quietly she may not have heard him at all. "It would have killed me."

**HGHG**

Voldemort stood next to the head of the table, a dangerous look in his eye as he stared at Draco who dared not back down.

"Say that again," Voldemort threatened.

"I said, My Lord, that I have her in the suite and that is where she will stay. I will not have my wife among men who would harm her for her blood, for daring to marry me, for carrying my children. I won't allow my children's mother to be so degraded in her own home. If you want her to carry healthy heirs, she must be relatively stress-free."

"I did not ask what you wanted. I want her to bow to me as her master, as the wife of my dearest follower. She is not pregnant yet. Do not try my patience. You will find my affection for your dearly departed Aunt will only give you so much leeway."

Strengthening his shields and relaxing his shoulders, Draco put a look of contempt on his face.

"She very well could be pregnant." He lied. Expertly he curled his upper lip with a mix of derision and deference. "I took your request to heart and the moment I had her in my grasp, was the moment I carried out my orders. I am your devoted servant, My Lord."

Voldemort entered his mind viciously, searching for any sign of deceit and subterfuge. his red eyes flashed with pleasure as he smiled, satisfied that he had found nothing to worry about in Draco's mind. Finding instead one of the many sexual fantasies of Hermione that Draco had constructed once he came to terms with who his mate was. Voldemort sat in his chair and gestured for Draco to do the same.

Draco sat and kept his smug thoughts behind his reinforced wall that held all of his thoughts about his mother, Hermione, and his father's continued incarceration and torture. Not to mention every thought about taking the snakey bastard down.

"Very good, Draco. Take this time to explore your new wife but once she gives birth I want both her and the child presented to me. Understood?"

"Yes, My Lord." Draco inclined his head. There was no way in hell that he would ever allow Hermione out of the safety of the Master suite while Voldemort still lived.

"Potter has been a busy boy," Voldemort began. All amusement fell away as they discussed the real reason Draco was brought here. "He has been interrogating every captured Death Eater for news about his stolen bride. The raiding parties have become a serious nuisance. They killed three of your brothers. I am bringing my inner circle to the manor until the next generation has been born. Once your son is born, I expect you to go retrieve Potter for me. Capture him and I will reward you above any others. Perhaps, I will even return your father to you."

"Your will is my command," Draco said before he was dismissed. As he walked the corridors back to the Master suite, a plan began to form in his mind. Little did the Dark Lord know, but he just gave Draco the way out. By the time he could feasibly pretend to have an heir, he would have a plan to take out Voldemort. Hopefully, Potter and Weasley would work with him. It was imperative that he get Hermione on his side.

**HGHG**

Hermione laid under the covers on the ridiculously extravagant bed and stared at the canopy. She was wearing Draco's Quidditch shirt as a nightie, having found nothing else available. She thought there must be a closet somewhere that would house his robes but had been unsuccessful in finding it. Next time Malfoy came, she would have to ask. She cringed. That was one of the last things she wanted to do. In fact, she had decided to keep the opposite schedule as him, hoping that they would have no reason to talk while she searched for a way out of her new beautiful prison.

Flinching as the door opened, she held her breath and body still, while keeping her eyes mostly closed. Relaxing when she saw Malfoy walk into the bedroom, Hermione continued her pretense of sleep, wondering what he was doing.

Malfoy sat on the chair next to the bed and took off his boots and socks, tossing each into the small basket near the door. Each piece of clothing he stripped went into the basket until he was sitting in his boxers. He turned toward the bed then and Hermione feigned rolling over. She hoped he bought it. She heard his footsteps as he rounded the bed and stopped next to her head. It took everything in her not to flinch when she felt his fingertips on her face.

He moved her hair and caressed her, studying her features with his hands. He was gentle and sweet, following the lines of her face to lightly trace her lips.

"How fucked up am I that this is the best part of my day? I wish more than anything that we could have met at school without all that shit between us. I'm sorry I took you against your will and I hope that one day you could forgive me." He murmured while continuing tracing her face. "I don't want to be enemies anymore. With you or your friends."

With a heavy sigh, Draco retreated and Hermione opened one of her eyes infinitesimally. He was laying sheets on the couch, under a pillow he must have taken from the bed. He laid down faced towards the bed and curled up under the blankets.

"Good night, Hermione." He murmured before the lights went out.

Her mind was a flurry of questions. Why was seeing her the best part of his day? Did he spend the day being tortured? Because she couldn't think of any other reason he would think seeing her was the best part. And he wished they had a normal school career without prejudices? Is that what he meant? He would have still been Draco Malfoy, untouchable Slytherin prince. Hermione was so confused.

She never thought she would hear Malfoy apologize but he did but not only that, he asked for her forgiveness. How odd.

**HGHG**

Draco had a horrible day. First of all, Voldemort requested Hermione come out to see a doctor, to confirm a pregnancy or not. Something that he absolutely could not allow. He couldn't protect her outside of the suite.

Then if that refusal to the Dark Lord wasn't enough, he had the temerity to request to see his father and tell him of the happy news of acquiring a daughter-in-law. He was shot down, which was not unexpected but he had hoped.

Voldemort seemed to think that the refusal of these two things were two things too many and sent Draco on a mission with only Zabini to accompany him. They were targeting a specific muggle family. Their orders were to murder all of them. Instead, he smuggled them out of the country, faking the deaths with a skill he wished he didn't possess. One would have to know what a dead body looked like to replicate it. Zabini despite having eyebrows high in his hairline, said nothing, grimly accepting of Draco's mercy.

Five muggles were given a new identity and sent on a muggle plane, leaving behind ghostly images that were so real they were nearly corporal. They set fire to the house and watched while it burned from across the street. Blaise pulled out a small silver flask and quaffed the contents, not even offering any to his friend.

"How's Granger?" Blaise asked after his flask was once again hidden in an inner pocket.

"Furious."

Blaise nodded and said, "At least your mate is still alive."

Draco looked at Blaise, really looked at him, for the first time in months. His normally rich coffee skin was pale and waxy, his eyes were bloodshot, his clothing rumpled and dirty. It was obvious that he wasn't doing well.

"I'm sorry."

"You know what the worst part is?" Blaise rubbed his head with annoyance. "her death wouldn't have affected me much had I not written my name on the parchment. I feel like there is a compulsion to avenge her death or grieve. I have felt her loss every moment since." He walked away without waiting for a response and disapparated, presumably to his next dose of whiskey.

Draco felt for his friend and thanked every deity living and dead for Hermione and her safety. When he had returned to the Manor, Voldemort had lackey's relay a message. Draco was on snatcher duty tonight for disobeying but he was still expected to shag his wife before he left, in the hopes of impregnating her. Draco hid his revulsion at the orders. He didn't want anyone thinking of Hermione having sex, least of all his Master.

He walked into their rooms and stopped stunned. Hermione was standing on the balcony in only his old quidditch jersey. His mouth went dry and his hands began to sweat. Wishing he had a camera, he stared at her back trying to burn the image into his retinas. She was gorgeous. He swallowed and his eyes caressed the shape of her legs. Never knowing he wanted his name on her until this moment.

"Malfoy," She said without turning around.

"Yes?" he asked huskily.

"I need clothes."

He chuckled and moved closer. "I like seeing you wear my shirt."

"I haven't changed in two days. I need clothes Malfoy."

Once he was directly behind her he ran his fingertips over her arms, making her shiver. He smiled, loving that he could pull a reaction from her with such simple touches.

"I will have the elves bring up a wardrobe for you."

"Let me go," She asked, he voice breaking.

"I can't but I wish I could," He whispered on the shell of her ear, his breaths sending her curls dancing. "It is too dangerous for both of us."

"I was going to marry Harry Potter, I was never safe. You can't keep me safe."

"As long as you are in these rooms, no one, not even Voldemort can hurt you."

"I've spent six months after the battle avoiding conflict. I can't do that anymore. Harry needs me."

"I need you,"

"Malfoy,"

"Hear me out. I didn't lie when I said you were my mate. Both sides can use you against me and as little as you want to hear it, I think they can use me against you too. Although I don't think the Dark Lord knows that yet. There is something about the magic they used, I think it may be a marital bonding of some sort. Blaise is a mess. His mate is dead."

"Who was his mate?"

"Ginny Weasley,"

Her breath hitched and he felt guilty bringing up her dead friend. He didn't want to hurt her.

"I still can't stay here, Malfoy. I need to fight. Let me go."

"If I let you go, I will never get you back."

"If you don't let me go, you will never have me anyway."

He rested his forehead against her shoulder and tried not to break down and weep in front of her. Unable to bear it if she thought him weak, he choked it back. He couldn't stand that she hated him, wanted to spit in his face and his offer of protection. But, he realized with a rapidly beating heart, he would probably give her whatever she asked.

"Not today,"

"Soon?"

"Soon." He confirmed, defeated. This must be what it was to have a mate, the inability to make her unhappy.

"Thank you," She said jubilantly. She turned around and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his neck. His heart thundered in his chest, his blood raced through his veins, and the butterflies in his stomach took flight. A thousand years could pass and he would never forget the feel of her in his arms even though he was positive that for her, this hug was innocent. His shirt rode up her legs and he got a glimpse of her rounded bum in white knickers, goose bumps rising on her flesh in the cool breeze.

She pulled away and faced the property once more. He was in a right state, pants tented with no time for relief either by his hand nor hers. Not that she would. After all, he was still the enemy.

"I have to go back out,"

She nodded.

"Don't wait up for me," He whispered as he turned away. Rejection wasn't something he could take after giving his word that he would free her.

**HGHG**

Hermione couldn't believe he had agreed to let her go. Their conversation kept running through her head on a continuous loop. He cared about her. She could see that but why? Because they were mates? But he had said something about being bonded by the spell and she wondered if a spell was the only reason why Malfoy treated her so well.

She had only been alone in the room for an hour before a hoard of House elves came with clothes. Robes of every shape and style laid on the bed as they waited for her approval. With a nod, the elves had the closet filled. Hermione was annoyed to see that the closet had merely been hidden. Had she been awake when Malfoy rose and showered, she would have known.

A tiny elf in a shiny pink satin pillowcase led her into the bathroom, clicking her tongue with disapproval. The bath was readied and the water was filled with rose petals, complimenting the soap that had been brought for her.

"Mistress?"

"Hmm?"

"Emmy will help the Mistress." She held her tiny hand up and Hermione put hers on top. The elf rolled her eyes and with a snap, Hermione was naked, clothes nowhere in sight. Hermione was bullied into the fragrant water but couldn't hold in her moan as she sank into the marble tub. As far as prisons went, this wasn't bad. She admitted to herself.

Emmy's long thin fingers entered her hair and began to message her scalp. It was fantastic.

"Master is so happy you is here, Mistress. Never did Master Draco say no to he-who-must-not-be-named before you came. We is finally having a master again."

"He said no to Riddle? Why?"

"You-know-who wanted Master to bring Mistress to him. Master refuses, every day."

"How come Riddle can't just come and get me?"

"The ancient spells on this suite are for the family of the Manor. It protects its Lord and Lady from assassination."

"And I am Lady Malfoy?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Oh Merlin," She breathed. What did this mean for her and Harry? With a sinking feeling, she knew deep within her being that she couldn't marry Harry now. She couldn't marry anyone since she was already married to Malfoy. She covered her face with her hands.

"Is Mistress alright?"

"I don't know,"

"Tell the Master, he will make it better."

"Thank you, Emmy,"

Emmy shampooed and rinsed her hair while Hermione used a flannel against her skin, washing off the grime of the last few days. The luxury of the bath was something she wouldn't squander. After a more than a year sharing one though large bathroom with the entirety of the order, she could only appreciate the soaking.

**HGHG**

Draco walked in the suite and fell flat on his face. The wound he had sustained earlier in the evening was still bleeding profusely and despite his healing spells and other means of staunching the flow, it wouldn't stop. He had lost so much blood that he was surprised he even made it home.

"Malfoy?" Hermione squealed as she came out of the steamy bathroom, once again in one of his shirts, a towel wrapped around her hair. She ran to him, running her hand over the blood-soaked robes to try and find where he was hurt.

"Emmy!" She summoned. The elf popped in and Draco was grateful that Hermione was there and was willing to help him. He thought she might use his weakness as a way to escape but neither one of them could afford that. If Voldemort ever found out that they hadn't slept together, he was a dead man walking. In the dark corner of his mind, he thought that might make Voldemort happy. Something inside of him just knew that Voldemort wanted to impregnate the witch and if he was out of the way, Hermione would be once again free.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Get him out of these robes and we need to bathe him and his wounds need to be treated. Where can I find… I'm a witch." She shouted and smacked her head. Her wand was always with her. Even in the beginning, Draco never tried to take it from her. He smiled. He vaguely wondered why she was using her original wand and not the elder wand but decided not to bring it up for now.

With a flick of her wrist, he felt cold air lapping on his skin, his robes having been vanished. He felt her warm hands over his body and couldn't bite back his groan as he was laid on the bed. Draco watched Hermione as she murmured healing spells over him. Emmy was pouring potion after potion down his throat.

Her towel had fallen and had hastily pinned her hair up in an extremely messy bun using magic to hold it in place. He reached out with his left hand and pushed an escapee curl behind her ear. Their eyes met and held as Emmy wrapped white bandages around his torso. Her cheeks were pink. He couldn't tell if it were from all the excitement or because he had touched her. Hoping like hell for the latter, he reached out again and was surprised when she leaned forward so that he could cradle her face.

"What happened?"

"Nothing important. I've been working with the snatchers for the last few days and they don't like that I am there and that we never seem to catch anyone while I am with them."

"Why don't you catch anyone? I know you are smart and capable."

He smiled tenderly, "I make sure that everyone we come across is suitably hidden."

"You have been helping people evade the snatchers?"

"It's no big deal," He said turning away from her and dropping his hand. Merlin, he was tired. Hermione caught his hand and brought it back up to her face.

"It is a big deal. You are a better man than I gave you credit for."

"I must be dreaming," he said as the potions kicked in.

"Why,"

"Because you think I am good. I am not good. You hate me. It must be a dream." He slurred.

"You're not dreaming, I am just starting to see the real you."

He tried to keep his eyes opened but failed, slipping into the waiting arms of Morpheus.

**HGHG**

Draco groaned as he woke up. His body felt like he had fallen from his broom from one thousand feet up. His right arm and leg were pinned and he panicked thinking he was being held down and was seconds from being tortured.

His eyes flew open and he reached for the weight on his right side, only to come into contact with the softest skin. He sucked in a lungful of air and watched Hermione's sleeping face. She was the weight pinning him to the mattress. He relaxed his body and held still, marveling in her closeness. She could have left him to die on the floor and she didn't. For the first time, Draco had hope.

She groaned loudly as if she were the one healing from her wounds.

"Alright there?" Hermione asked groggily.

"You stayed," He said softly.

Hermione smiled and sat up, moving off of him.

"Don't go,"

"I need to go to the loo. I'll be right back."

Reaching for her as she left, Draco felt as if that was going to be his life, watching her leave. He closed his eyes. That was something he didn't want and hoped that during this time they had together she could come to like him too. Honestly, he wanted more than that but her not hating him was definitely the right step.

He sat up and unwound the bandage, happy to see the wound was nearly gone. Hermione and Emmy had given him healing potions and rubbed one of Snape's healing balms on his skin. Only a thin red line was what was left of his injury.

"Draco!"

He jumped a mile high.

"Bloody hell, woman, give a man some warning." He grumbled.

"What are you doing?" Her voice went shrill.

"Checking on my wound. Why?"

"You should keep that wrapped for the whole day."

"It's already healed, look," He stood and dropped the linen on the floor, naked from the waist up. Slowly, he sauntered up to her, watching as she stared at his lightly muscled torso. Smirking, he leaned in and took her hand, bringing it up to brush the thin red line. "See?"

"Mmmm." She said as her eyes slid from the closed wound, over his pectorals, shoulders, neck, to finally land on his lips. Her stare made him feel invincible as if he were the only man she wanted. That was something that he desperately wanted to believe but didn't dare.

"No need to worry," Draco purred, stepping in even closer. He shifted her hand so that her palm was against his heart, knowing that she could feel each pounding beat.

"I wasn't," she denied in a whisper. Draco cupped her jaw and turned up her face.

"Liar." He leaned down and kissed her. For a second or eternity, she stood there, unmoving, making his heart plummet. She was going to push him away, he just knew it. Caressing her lips with his tongue, he knew that he needed to savor every moment because this maybe the first and last time she may ever let him kiss her and he was determined to make it the best memory possible, for both of them. And then she kissed him back and opened her mouth to his probing tongue. He grabbed her hips and pulled her close. There was no way she didn't feel his straining erection.

She moaned into his mouth and it felt like ecstasy. Fireworks lit in his brain as she used the palm on his chest to push him back. Without a doubt, there was nowhere that she wanted to go that he wouldn't follow or in this case be pushed towards.

The back of his calf hit the bed and he stopped but Hermione had other plans. She pushed harder until he was sitting on the bed. This time her hands were on his face as the kiss became frenzied.

"What are you waiting for? Get up there." Hermione's voice was husky and her pupils were blown.

He scooted up the bed and leaned his back against the headboard, watching as she reached for the hem of his shirt. He sucked in a breath when she pulled it off and flung it into the basket next to the door. Her breasts were full with pink tips, a small waist, and a neatly groomed mons. His mouth watered. There was nothing in this world that he wanted more than to taste her glistening slit.

He was on fire, his erection poking out of his boxers. Sliding his hands underneath the band, he watched Hermione's breathing speed up as he took off the last thing between them. She crawled onto the bed and he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

Straddling his legs, Hermione teased him, slowly grinding against his cock. Her hands clenched on the headboard as Draco grabbed her hip and pulled her up. He took himself in hand and ran his tip in her cleft, making her whine as he hit her clit. She was so wet.

"No more teasing, please," She whispered. Draco lined himself up and his eyes rolled back in his head as she slid down his steel rod.

**HGHG**

Every nerve in her body was sending signals to her brain. She was fully seated on Draco, his cock stretching her petite body in the most delicious of ways. When his hands encircled both of her hips, she began to move, rocking so that her clit would continuously rub against his groin.

Hermione couldn't help but make noises as she sped up, throwing her head back in bliss. When he had come in last night hurt and nearly passed out on the floor, she panicked, realizing how much she had grown to like him. She would never forgive herself for holding on to so many prejudices against him when he was doing so much to protect her, even if she didn't need to be protected.

Strip away all of the brainwashing from his childhood and he became one hell of a guy. But the real moment of truth came when Draco kissed her and she realized exactly what she would have been giving up by marrying Harry. With Draco, there was fire and passion. That was what she wanted from her mate.

Hermione's legs began to shake as she rode him faster. Bending down to capture his lips, she came around him, her body milking his with clenching inner muscles. He arched up into her, digging his heels in the mattress and thrusting up into her as he orgasmed with her. His kisses slowed and lost their intensity but not the tenderness.

"You are everything to me," He whispered. "I love you."

Her heart melted and she was sure she became a puddle on the floor.

"I never thought I would say this, Draco Malfoy," She began. His eyes grew large and round with fear. "but, I love you too."

His smile was blinding. He laughed before pulling her in for another kiss.

**HGHG**

Draco ran through the halls, the deafening noise from the drawing room sent fear spiraling through his body. Taking the stairs two and three at a time to save time was the only reason he walked into the tip of a wand once he reached the first floor.

Harry Potter, in a deadly calm, looked him in the eye, with a fury of a man who no longer cared for his own life.

"Where is she?"

"Safe."

"Don't make me hurt you Malfoy."

Draco walked closer so that the wand tip dug into his throat.

"I will help you kill him. Once he is dead, I will take you to Hermione."

Potter stared at him for several seconds before dropping his wand arm.

"Lead the way,"

Draco smirked, he couldn't help himself. Potter didn't know it yet, but for once Draco was the victor. Hermione was truly his. He pivoted and walked down the hallway toward the library where he knew Voldemort to be holding court for that night.

With one look back, he said "Potter, you are only going to have one shot. Make it count. I will help you if I can."

Harry nodded and switched from holding Draco at wand point to the unopened doors. Draco was surprised that Voldemort hadn't come out. The noise of the battle in his house was deafening. There was no way Voldemort couldn't hear them.

One last nod to Potter and Draco threw open the library doors.

"Welcome, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. He was flanked by several Death Eaters.

Draco palmed his wand and the others were so focused on Potter that they didn't even realize that Draco had gone rogue. He had to give it to Potter, he was fast.

Stunning spells and dark magic bounced around the room, mostly hitting the Death Eaters. Voldemort was shielding and Potter was dodging. Potter was outmatched on every level and he saw the moment that Potter realized it too.

Draco couldn't let him die. Hermione would be devastated. He moved around the room until he was behind Voldemort and drug up everything this man did to him and his family, to Hermione and with one rage filled Avada, Voldemort lay dead at his feet, Potter stunned speechless in front. He had never meant anything more that he did with that spell.

"Holy shit, Malfoy."

"I would do anything for her Potter,"

Kingsley entered the room and Potter immediately went about clearing his name, even crediting him with the kill. Although it was his to claim, he was surprised that Potter didn't claim the kill himself. News traveled ahead of him as he ran back through the manor, Potter right behind him. He threw open the master suite and ran in, ignoring Potter's outraged screams in the corridor having been unable to breach the wards.

"Hermione?" He screamed. Panicking when he didn't see her but relaxed as she came out of the closet.

"What's wrong? Is that Harry?" She demanded.

He enveloped her in his arms muttering into her curls.

"It's over, all over. Voldemort is dead. I killed him and Harry and the Order are here. Merlin, Hermione we are finally free."

"Is that true?" She asked breathlessly.

"Yes!"

She threw her arms around his neck and danced on her tip toes, kissing his face.

"You are amazing Draco!"

He laughed fully for the first time in years. It was over, he could finally breathe.

"I love you, Hermione!"

"I love you too! Why is Harry yelling?" she asked.

"The wards on this room are for as long as the manor stands. I don't think anything other than ancient wards would have held against Voldemort for so long."

Hermione left his arms and he felt empty and anxious as she left the safety of the suite for the first time since coming to the manor. Potter hugged her tightly to him, and Draco fought the jealousy that rose in him. They were talking and laughing over each other, Draco could only make out bits and pieces.

"Lost you,"

"…Draco…Man…Love"

"…Treat…kill?"

"No!...Mine"

"Sure…"

Hermione turned to him and Potter pulled out of her arms and waited while Hermione raised her hand so that he could take it in his. His relief must have shown on his face because she began giggling.

"Where to Malfoy?" Potter asked.

"Who? Me or Hermione?"

"What!" Potter screeched and Draco smirked. Hermione smacked his shoulder.

"It's a long story, Harry," Hermione said rolling her eyes.

**HGHG**

Hermione took one last look at Draco's devastated face before she apparated away. It had to be like this, she thought. She needed to do this and he needed to wait for her. Hermione landed outside Grimmauld and smiled. There were things she had to do, things she needed to clear up before she could move on. Whatever that may be.

Harry deserved to know the truth. 'But it's Draco Malfoy' he had said to her right after Voldemort had been killed. She walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. Mrs. Black's portrait went crazy as the door was opened to Harry's grim face. He moved back out of the way, neither speaking. Hermione felt sick with guilt.

He led them through to the library and sat down next to the fire, his hard eyes boring holes in her forehead.

"Why?" He asked angrily.

"Do you remember when you had watched Dumbledore die and you told us Malfoy was there and he was supposed to be the one to do it but he lowered his wand. That he couldn't go through with it? That is the moment that everything changed. I'm sure of it. He helped people, Muggles, escape."

"He took you though, didn't he?"

Hermione placed the parchment and blood quill on the small table between them. Harry looked at the quill with a special loathing having been acquainted since his fifth year.

"I've been doing tests on this. Its function is to match the most magically compatible people. Those that have the highest chances of creating magically superior children. Now, you and I both know that two magically powerful people can have Squibs or children without great power. This parchment goes a bit further. There is a compulsion on it. It makes those that use it frantic if their 'mate' rejects them or isn't able to be found. The longer it takes to find their mate the more desperate they are to find them. In the case of Nott and Greengrass, there was not much compulsion because they were accessible to each other."

"So, Draco doesn't actually love you?"

"The compulsion doesn't manufacture love, Harry. Just makes the desire to find the missing mate intense."

"What are you saying then?"

"That the compulsion made him take me but he was good to me."

"Speaking of being captured, you had your wand. Why didn't you escape?"

"Two reasons. I used to hear Voldemort or a Death Eater pace the hallway when Draco wasn't there and there was no other way to leave the suite. Second, I was compelled to be near Draco."

"You said he was going to let you go,"

"I think he would have if Voldemort hadn't been killed when he was."

"You think awfully highly of him now, don't you?"

"I do. He let me leave Harry. He didn't try and stop me. I don't think he believes I will even go back."

"Will you?"

"I love him."

"You were supposed to marry me!"

"You wanted me to never leave you but you wanted to marry Ginny. You will never stop loving her and you do not love me the way you love her. This wouldn't have worked out in the long run."

"She is dead,"

"And without meaning to, she will haunt you for the rest of your life."

"What am I supposed to do now?"

"Live," Hermione said as Ron came in and gave them both grins before flopping on the couch.

"Malfoy is at the ministry with Kingsley trying to get your marriage annulled or something."

"What!" She yelled.

"You didn't know?" Ron said.

"Obviously not,"

"Maybe, you should take your own advice, Hermione, and live," Harry muttered quietly.

Hermione smiled and ran out of Grimmauld like a bat out of hell, disapparating the moment she cleared the wards. Appearing in the Ministry atrium, breaking several wards in doing so.

People milled around and stopped to stare at the angry witch that everyone knew by name. Hermione stomped up to the help witch and growled, "Where is Kingsley?"

"Level one. But he is in a meeting now!"

Hermione didn't even stop to retort to the nervous witch and strode to the lifts, intent on stopping whatever ridiculous notion Draco had conjured. Waiting for the lift to arrive at the correct level was nothing short of aggravating. She tapped her foot and glared at anyone who stopped the lift refusing to let anyone on in her haste to get to the Minister's office. When the doors finally opened on level one, she sprinted down the corridor, happy that she was finally there. With a flick of her wrist, the door was blown wide open. The minister, Draco, and Kingsley stared at her in open-mouthed shock. Hermione ignored everyone but her husband, focusing exclusively on Draco.

"Hermione?" Draco asked, perplexed.

"You don't want to be married to me?" She yelled.

"I want to be married to you but you were never given a choice. I want you to have a choice."

"Wonderful because if you continue to try and get us a divorce, also without asking, I will hex off your balls!"

"You don't want a divorce?'

"If I did want to divorce you, don't you think that would have been the first thing I did?" Her voice grew softer as she moved into the room. She reached out her hand and threaded her fingers in his. "Ask me."

"Will you be my wife?" He asked with baited breath.

"Yes."

"It's about damn time," Blaise drawled from the doorway, a silver flask in hand.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked curiously.

"I need to know where Ginevra was laid to rest so I can move on with my life."

"We'll take you," Hermione kindly said.

**HGHG**

Draco sat in the sunroom with Hermione's swollen feet in his lap. She was laying on the couch, her book balanced on her pregnant belly while she ate watermelon with the other. Watermelon was something that she ate every day and if she didn't have it, she turned into a she-devil. So, he made sure the manor was well stocked. Lucius was sipping tea in the wingback near the door, watching Draco out of the corner of his eyes.

It had taken months to nurse him back to health after his extended stay in his own dungeons and once the healers gave him a clear bill of health, Draco told him of his marriage to Hermione and how it came about. Once Lucius got over that shock, they told him she was pregnant. Now he was just as doting as Draco, if not more so. Who could argue with a magical mating? They would undoubtedly have powerful children and just like Draco predicted, that is exactly what Lucius focused on.

The floo turned green and Draco watched Potter step into the manor.

"Hello Potter,"

"Malfoy, Lucius," He nodded at the two Malfoy men and went up to Hermione, plucking her book off her belly. "You are going to squish my godson."

"Stop jinxing it Potter, that's my daughter in there."

"I thought Malfoy's always have male heirs first," Harry teased.

"They do," Lucius said, amused.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What do you want Harry? I'm bloated, have heartburn, my sciatic nerve feels like it's attached to a live wire, and I am due any day. I don't want to move my feet from Draco's lap. He gives the most amazing foot massages."

"Kingsley was inaugurated as the Minister of Magic this afternoon."

"That is not news. You told me he was taking office last week."

"Yes, well his first order was to award Draco with an Order of Merlin first class since the last minister made it clear that he and his father were extremely lucky not to be tossed in Azkaban."

Hermione smiled fondly at Draco.

"Narcissa was also awarded one posthumously," Harry added, watching Draco as he stopped rubbing her feet and closed off his face. The only indication that he was experiencing deep feelings.

Hermione sat up with great difficulty and held her hand out for Harry to take so that she could stand.

"That's brilliant. Isn't it Draco?"

All at once a gush fell to the floor from between her legs. She looked down calmly.

"My water just broke,"

Draco jumped up in a flurry and bounced between rooms, gathering everything that she could possibly need and more. Hermione rolled her eyes and trudged from the room, Emmy at her feet cleaning up the birth water as she went.

"where do you think you are going?" Draco's shrill yell pierced through the whole house.

"To brush my teeth, then we can go."

"Your water broke."

"I am aware,"

"We have to go right now!"

"The baby will wait until after I brush my teeth."

With a grumble, Draco ran to her and swept her into his arms apparating them to their rooms.

"You are impossible, Woman!"

"And you love me anyway!"

"Merlin, help me but it's true."

Hermione brushed her teeth and slid her arm around her grumpy husband's neck. "I am ready."

The hospital quickly filled with friends and family of the couple, pureblooded and Muggleborns, light side, and dark. It wasn't long before Draco was back, eyes wide and frightened, a little pink bundle in one arm and a little blue bundle in the other.

"Scorpius and Regina Malfoy" Draco presented his children proudly. He was swamped as the gathering crowded in close, cooing over the newest members of the family. He couldn't have been happier.


End file.
